


Halls Dark and Hollow

by clgfanfic



Category: War of the Worlds (TV)
Genre: Gen, Pre-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-21
Updated: 2013-02-21
Packaged: 2017-11-30 00:20:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,719
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/693194
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/clgfanfic/pseuds/clgfanfic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A peek into Paul's childhood.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Halls Dark and Hollow

**Author's Note:**

> Originally published in the zine Green Floating Weirdness #10 under the pen name Llyr Chaves and Gillian Holt.

_"We will help you."_

 

1956

          Large black eyes followed the Sister's every move as she fastidiously packed his small suitcase – three pairs of pants, three shirts, three pairs of underwear and socks, one sweater.  The clothes neatly in place she added his books, paper pad, and three pencils, reminding him not to get behind on his studies.  Last, she dropped in a comb and his toothbrush – carefully wrapped in a tissue.  The task completed, she set the suitcase at the foot of his bed so it couldn't be missed.  A brief smile and she was gone.

          He scooted up in the bed, leaning back against the wooden headboard, and making it creak under his weight.  His breath caught and he waited for the Sister to come back and scold him, but he could hear her footfalls ringing hollowly on the tiles, fading away until only the sound of his wheezing remained.

          He shivered slightly and pulled the covers up, wrapping his fingers into the rough sheets.  It was cold in the large room, and the dim light escaping in from around the edges of the closed heavy curtains made the walls look icy-grey.  Staring out the half-open door of the infirmary, he studied the long dark hallway that led past the kitchen and janitor's room suspiciously.

          The Sisters had told him and the other boys about demons who came to steal children's souls.  He thought they sounded like Spear Finger, but he didn't say so.  The Sisters didn't like the stories his grandmother told him.

          He was afraid he was dying.  He'd heard the Sisters whispering and saw their sad expressions when they looked at him, their gazes quickly gone when they realized he was watching them as well.

          They didn't want him to know the truth.  They didn't want him to be scared, but he was.  They thought the demons were going to come take him, so they made sure no one else was there.  That no one else would get taken away.  They wouldn't even let his brother come visit.  They said they were afraid he'd get sick.  But he knew it was because they didn't want the demons to get Michael, too.

          Sister Hannah had come first that morning.  She had left his suitcase, explaining that Sister Mary was very busy in the kitchen, getting lunch ready for the other boys.  She would be in later to pack his bag, but he wasn't to interrupt her.  He would have to be a big boy, Sister Hannah said, and wait for his grandfather by himself.  She told him, in whispered tones, that his grandfather was coming.  Grandfather, she promised, would be there before lunch to take him home where he would get better and then come back to school.

          He didn't feel like he would get better.  His chest hurt, his body ached, and the fever made it hard to sleep or eat.  Coughing made his lungs burn, and it was hard to breathe.

          Maybe grandfather would know what to do.  He was a _di:danvwi'sgi_.  The Sisters had told him that his Father knew everything, so his grandfather had to know more, because he _knew_ his father didn't know everything.  If grandfather arrived before the demons, he would know what to do.

          "Paul?"

          He blinked and sucked in a shallow gulp of air.  Where had _she_ come from?  A pretty woman, long black hair falling loose over her shoulders.  She wore a pale blue skirt and white shirt with ribbons sewn on.  She was Cherokee.

          "Paul Ironhorse?"

          He nodded.  She smiled and stepped closer, sitting on the foot of his bed.

          "Are you an angel?" Paul whispered.

          The graceful arc of black eyebrows rose slightly.  "No, I'm not an angel."

          "Really?"

          "Really."

          "Are you…  Are you a demon?"

          "No."

          "But you know my name."

          "Yes, and you can call me _Do'tsuwa_."

          Paul smiled.  "But you don't look like a Red Bird."

          "Oh?"  She smiled.  "What do I look like?"

          He shrugged, then coughed.  Rubbing his fists across his chest, he coughed again, wincing in pain.

          Do'tsuwa slid closer.  "Here, little one," she said, helping him sit up so she could reach behind him and rub his back.  The small ridges of his ribs bumped under her fingers, warm with fever.  "That better?"

          He nodded.

          She smiled.  "Don't feel very good, do you."

          "No…  My chest hurts."

          "It'll get better.  How old are you, Paul?"

          "Six," he said.

          "Six years old.  That's a very good age."

          Paul shook his head.  "It's bad.  Nobody lets you do anything."

          "I see," she said, trying to look serious.  "I suppose it'll be better when you're seven."

          Paul nodded sagely and she grinned, still rubbing his back.

"That feel better?"

          "Yes."

          "You're a very brave boy, waiting here all alone."

          The black eyes dropped, and he shook his head.  "I'm scared."

          "Oh?"

"The Sisters look at me funny.  They think I'm gonna die.  I don't want the demons to get me."

          She leaned forward and gave him a hug.  "No, Paul, you aren't going to die.  You're going to grow up and be a very important man."

          "Am I gonna be a pirate?"

          She leaned back, her eyebrows peaked.  "You want to be a pirate?"

          He nodded.  "And an astronaut."

          "I see."  She ruffled his hair.  "Why don't you lay down, and maybe you'll dream about what you're going to be when you grow up."

          The black eyes widened and blinked owlishly.  "Will you stay?"

          "Until your grandfather comes," she promised.

          Paul scooted down and let her tuck the covers around his shoulders.  Pushing the black hair off his forehead, she leaned forward and kissed his forehead.

          "Sleep now, my little wolf.  Your grandfather will be here when you wake up.  He'll make you well again."

          Paul smiled, then reached out and gave her a hug.  "Thank you, Do'tsuwa."

          "You're very welcome, _a'da:hi sa:quo_."  Laying him back down, she smoothed his hair again, watching as his eyes dropped closed.  "Be brave, little one, you have many battles ahead, but you will overcome them.  We will help you."

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

          Paul ran out of the large wooden doors, leaving the St. Francis Catholic Boy's Boarding School behind.  He stopped, looking up at a tall castle.

          "Wow," he breathed, the black eyes widening.

          A sound off in the distance caught his attention, and Paul scampered around the corner of the building and stopped again.  Men dressed like toy soldiers marched across a large grassy field.  It was exciting and frightening all at the same time, and he charged back around the corner of the castle, almost running into tall young man.

          "Well, hello," he said, smiling down at the six-year-old.  "What's your name?"

          "P-Paul."

          The smile widened.  "Mine, too.  You belong here, don't you?"

          The boy shrugged, then looked past the man to where several more of the soldiers on horseback galloped past carrying flags.  "Horses!"

          "They're part of the Honor Guard."

          Paul turned back to the man, but he was gone.  Stepping back, the boy studied the path that wandered through the foliage along a wide river.

          Taking a tentative step down the path, he realized that there were flat ships on the river.  Edging closer, he watched as the barges passed, each filled with different cargo.  There was one that looked like an island, with bright green trees and fireworks, on another a large sand pile with a burning plane on it.

          The images made no sense to the boy, but he watched anyway, enthralled, until a barge passed, stacked tall with oil barrels.  He took a step back, afraid, but not knowing why.  Turning, he ran away from the river, finding himself back on the large grassy field.

          Not far away several old men sat around a fire, singing.  He didn't recognize them, but they looked Cherokee, like the younger man he'd seen earlier.  He made his way over slowly, hoping one of them would see him and invite him over.

          "You, boy."

          Paul jumped, his head snapping around.  An older man stood behind him, wearing a green uniform.  "You belong with them."

          Paul shook his head.

          The man smiled.  "Well, one day you will."

          The song ended on a collective shout and Paul looked back.  The field was empty, the men gone.  The long hallway leading to the infirmary opened before him.  Shadows clung to the high corners, and he was sure the demons were up there, watching him.

          "Paul?"

          "Grandfather?"

          "I'm waiting for you in the infirmary.  It's time to go home."

          The boy took three quick steps down the hall, then saw the flash of an eye watching him from the shadows.

          "Grandfather!"

          "It's all right, Paul, shadows can't hurt you."

          Two more steps and a hand reached out for him.  It looked wrong, discolored and twisted.  He jerked away and ran the rest of the way to the infirmary, bursting through the doors.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

          Paul sat up in bed, his sweat-damp nightclothes clinging to him.  He held his chest and coughed.  The pretty lady was gone.

          "Come on, Paul," his grandfather said, reaching out to pat his back.  "It's time to go home."

          He nodded, and tried to swing his feet over the side of the bed, but was too weak.  Reaching down, his grandfather scooped him up into his arms, Paul resting his heavy head on the wide shoulder.

          Grandfather paused, bending down to grab the suitcase, then headed out into the hallway.  Paul watched the corners, but there were no eyes or hands, no demons to interrupt their walk out of the school.

          After settling him in the front seat of the old car, his grandfather walked around and climbed in behind the wheel.  Reaching over, he patted the boy's knee.  "We'll have you feeling better in no time."

          "Did you see Do'tsuwa?"

"Who?"

          "Do'tsuwa.  She came to sit with me until you came."

          "I see," the old man said.  "And was she a Red Bird?"

          Paul shook his head, wheezed and smiled.  "No, she was pretty."

          "A Cherokee woman?"

          Paul nodded.  "She said I was gonna be 'portant.  She gave me a dream."

          The older man's eyes widened.  "She did?"

          "I can't remember…  I was lost."

          Grandfather reached out and drew Paul in close to his side, rubbing his back as he drove.  "That's okay.  You'll remember when the time is right.  You remember the stories grandma told you about the Nuhnehi?"

          Paul nodded against his side.

          "That's who Do'tsuwa was, a Nuhnehi.  They've picked you, Paul."

          "Why?"

          "I don't know.  But you will, one day."

          "Are they like Spear Finger?"

          The old man chuckled at the concern in the boy's voice.  "No, they live in the hills and under the rivers and watch the people.  Sometimes, when they find someone special, they'll come out and help them.  Usually they're invisible, but when they want to walk the earth they take the shape of the people."

          "Do they like us?"

          "Yes.  Sometimes they'll even fight on behalf of the people, if they think our enemies are going to overwhelm us."

          "Do they ride horses?" Paul asked, his eyes slipping closed again.

          "Sometimes, _a'tsu:tsa wa'ya_."

_"We will help you."_

 

Large black eyes followed the Sister's every move as she fastidiously packed his small suitcase – three pairs of pants, three shirts, three pairs of underwear and socks, one sweater.  The clothes neatly in place she added his books, paper pad, and three pencils, reminding him not to get behind on his studies.  Last, she dropped in a comb and his toothbrush – carefully wrapped in a tissue.  The task completed, she set the suitcase at the foot of his bed so it couldn't be missed.  A brief smile and she was gone.

          He scooted up in the bed, leaning back against the wooden headboard, and making it creak under his weight.  His breath caught and he waited for the Sister to come back and scold him, but he could hear her footfalls ringing hollowly on the tiles, fading away until only the sound of his wheezing remained.

          He shivered slightly and pulled the covers up, wrapping his fingers into the rough sheets.  It was cold in the large room, and the dim light escaping in from around the edges of the closed heavy curtains made the walls look icy-grey.  Staring out the half-open door of the infirmary, he studied the long dark hallway that led past the kitchen and janitor's room suspiciously.

          The Sisters had told him and the other boys about demons who came to steal children's souls.  He thought they sounded like Spear Finger, but he didn't say so.  The Sisters didn't like the stories his grandmother told him.

          He was afraid he was dying.  He'd heard the Sisters whispering and saw their sad expressions when they looked at him, their gazes quickly gone when they realized he was watching them as well.

          They didn't want him to know the truth.  They didn't want him to be scared, but he was.  They thought the demons were going to come take him, so they made sure no one else was there.  That no one else would get taken away.  They wouldn't even let his brother come visit.  They said they were afraid he'd get sick.  But he knew it was because they didn't want the demons to get Michael, too.

          Sister Hannah had come first that morning.  She had left his suitcase, explaining that Sister Mary was very busy in the kitchen, getting lunch ready for the other boys.  She would be in later to pack his bag, but he wasn't to interrupt her.  He would have to be a big boy, Sister Hannah said, and wait for his grandfather by himself.  She told him, in whispered tones, that his grandfather was coming.  Grandfather, she promised, would be there before lunch to take him home where he would get better and then come back to school.

          He didn't feel like he would get better.  His chest hurt, his body ached, and the fever made it hard to sleep or eat.  Coughing made his lungs burn, and it was hard to breathe.

          Maybe grandfather would know what to do.  He was a _di:danvwi'sgi_.  The Sisters had told him that his Father knew everything, so his grandfather had to know more, because he _knew_ his father didn't know everything.  If grandfather arrived before the demons, he would know what to do.

          "Paul?"

          He blinked and sucked in a shallow gulp of air.  Where had _she_ come from?  A pretty woman, long black hair falling loose over her shoulders.  She wore a pale blue skirt and white shirt with ribbons sewn on.  She was Cherokee.

          "Paul Ironhorse?"

          He nodded.  She smiled and stepped closer, sitting on the foot of his bed.

          "Are you an angel?" Paul whispered.

          The graceful arc of black eyebrows rose slightly.  "No, I'm not an angel."

          "Really?"

          "Really."

          "Are you…  Are you a demon?"

          "No."

          "But you know my name."

          "Yes, and you can call me _Do'tsuwa_."

          Paul smiled.  "But you don't look like a Red Bird."

          "Oh?"  She smiled.  "What do I look like?"

          He shrugged, then coughed.  Rubbing his fists across his chest, he coughed again, wincing in pain.

          Do'tsuwa slid closer.  "Here, little one," she said, helping him sit up so she could reach behind him and rub his back.  The small ridges of his ribs bumped under her fingers, warm with fever.  "That better?"

          He nodded.

          She smiled.  "Don't feel very good, do you."

          "No…  My chest hurts."

          "It'll get better.  How old are you, Paul?"

          "Six," he said.

          "Six years old.  That's a very good age."

          Paul shook his head.  "It's bad.  Nobody lets you do anything."

          "I see," she said, trying to look serious.  "I suppose it'll be better when you're seven."

          Paul nodded sagely and she grinned, still rubbing his back.

"That feel better?"

          "Yes."

          "You're a very brave boy, waiting here all alone."

          The black eyes dropped, and he shook his head.  "I'm scared."

          "Oh?"

"The Sisters look at me funny.  They think I'm gonna die.  I don't want the demons to get me."

          She leaned forward and gave him a hug.  "No, Paul, you aren't going to die.  You're going to grow up and be a very important man."

          "Am I gonna be a pirate?"

          She leaned back, her eyebrows peaked.  "You want to be a pirate?"

          He nodded.  "And an astronaut."

          "I see."  She ruffled his hair.  "Why don't you lay down, and maybe you'll dream about what you're going to be when you grow up."

          The black eyes widened and blinked owlishly.  "Will you stay?"

          "Until your grandfather comes," she promised.

          Paul scooted down and let her tuck the covers around his shoulders.  Pushing the black hair off his forehead, she leaned forward and kissed his forehead.

          "Sleep now, my little wolf.  Your grandfather will be here when you wake up.  He'll make you well again."

          Paul smiled, then reached out and gave her a hug.  "Thank you, Do'tsuwa."

          "You're very welcome, _a'da:hi sa:quo_."  Laying him back down, she smoothed his hair again, watching as his eyes dropped closed.  "Be brave, little one, you have many battles ahead, but you will overcome them.  We will help you."

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

          Paul ran out of the large wooden doors, leaving the St. Francis Catholic Boy's Boarding School behind.  He stopped, looking up at a tall castle.

          "Wow," he breathed, the black eyes widening.

          A sound off in the distance caught his attention, and Paul scampered around the corner of the building and stopped again.  Men dressed like toy soldiers marched across a large grassy field.  It was exciting and frightening all at the same time, and he charged back around the corner of the castle, almost running into tall young man.

          "Well, hello," he said, smiling down at the six-year-old.  "What's your name?"

          "P-Paul."

          The smile widened.  "Mine, too.  You belong here, don't you?"

          The boy shrugged, then looked past the man to where several more of the soldiers on horseback galloped past carrying flags.  "Horses!"

          "They're part of the Honor Guard."

          Paul turned back to the man, but he was gone.  Stepping back, the boy studied the path that wandered through the foliage along a wide river.

          Taking a tentative step down the path, he realized that there were flat ships on the river.  Edging closer, he watched as the barges passed, each filled with different cargo.  There was one that looked like an island, with bright green trees and fireworks, on another a large sand pile with a burning plane on it.

          The images made no sense to the boy, but he watched anyway, enthralled, until a barge passed, stacked tall with oil barrels.  He took a step back, afraid, but not knowing why.  Turning, he ran away from the river, finding himself back on the large grassy field.

          Not far away several old men sat around a fire, singing.  He didn't recognize them, but they looked Cherokee, like the younger man he'd seen earlier.  He made his way over slowly, hoping one of them would see him and invite him over.

          "You, boy."

          Paul jumped, his head snapping around.  An older man stood behind him, wearing a green uniform.  "You belong with them."

          Paul shook his head.

          The man smiled.  "Well, one day you will."

          The song ended on a collective shout and Paul looked back.  The field was empty, the men gone.  The long hallway leading to the infirmary opened before him.  Shadows clung to the high corners, and he was sure the demons were up there, watching him.

          "Paul?"

          "Grandfather?"

          "I'm waiting for you in the infirmary.  It's time to go home."

          The boy took three quick steps down the hall, then saw the flash of an eye watching him from the shadows.

          "Grandfather!"

          "It's all right, Paul, shadows can't hurt you."

          Two more steps and a hand reached out for him.  It looked wrong, discolored and twisted.  He jerked away and ran the rest of the way to the infirmary, bursting through the doors.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

          Paul sat up in bed, his sweat-damp nightclothes clinging to him.  He held his chest and coughed.  The pretty lady was gone.

          "Come on, Paul," his grandfather said, reaching out to pat his back.  "It's time to go home."

          He nodded, and tried to swing his feet over the side of the bed, but was too weak.  Reaching down, his grandfather scooped him up into his arms, Paul resting his heavy head on the wide shoulder.

          Grandfather paused, bending down to grab the suitcase, then headed out into the hallway.  Paul watched the corners, but there were no eyes or hands, no demons to interrupt their walk out of the school.

          After settling him in the front seat of the old car, his grandfather walked around and climbed in behind the wheel.  Reaching over, he patted the boy's knee.  "We'll have you feeling better in no time."

          "Did you see Do'tsuwa?"

"Who?"

          "Do'tsuwa.  She came to sit with me until you came."

          "I see," the old man said.  "And was she a Red Bird?"

          Paul shook his head, wheezed and smiled.  "No, she was pretty."

          "A Cherokee woman?"

          Paul nodded.  "She said I was gonna be 'portant.  She gave me a dream."

          The older man's eyes widened.  "She did?"

          "I can't remember…  I was lost."

          Grandfather reached out and drew Paul in close to his side, rubbing his back as he drove.  "That's okay.  You'll remember when the time is right.  You remember the stories grandma told you about the Nuhnehi?"

          Paul nodded against his side.

          "That's who Do'tsuwa was, a Nuhnehi.  They've picked you, Paul."

          "Why?"

          "I don't know.  But you will, one day."

          "Are they like Spear Finger?"

          The old man chuckled at the concern in the boy's voice.  "No, they live in the hills and under the rivers and watch the people.  Sometimes, when they find someone special, they'll come out and help them.  Usually they're invisible, but when they want to walk the earth they take the shape of the people."

          "Do they like us?"

          "Yes.  Sometimes they'll even fight on behalf of the people, if they think our enemies are going to overwhelm us."

          "Do they ride horses?" Paul asked, his eyes slipping closed again.

          "Sometimes, _a'tsu:tsa wa'ya_."


End file.
